Sephardic Farewell/Ancestors by Joseph Hobesh - HTML preview

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Chapter 22

La Navidad

Hispaniola

January 1493

Admiral Colon, angry and frustrated, contemplated the events of the past three months. Exploration of the numerous islands had brought no contact with the Khans of Chilpango or Japan. Nor had he located any large quantities of gold. The loss of his flagship, Santa Maria, which grounded and sunk on a reef Christmas Eve. But most galling of all, the defection of Martine Alonso Pinzon, along with his ship the Pinta. With supplies now running low, he would have to begin the return trip back to España sooner than he had intended. Within two days, fateful decisions would have to be made, creating additional problems.

Since his one remaining small ship the Nina could not accommodate all of the men, some would have to remain in Hispaniola.

Using the remains of the Santa Maria, he had a makeshift fort built, which he Christened La Navidad. The fort would house the 30-40 men required to be left behind.

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The fort building effort, along with the provisions he would have to leave, renewed his anger for Pinzon. Who sailed off without permission along with his crew, for some far off island called Babeque. Pinzon, according to his brother Vicente, sailed to this island, because his Indian guide hinted that much gold could be obtained there.

There had been no contact with Pinzon since the end of November. And Colon presumed he was either shipwrecked or stranded somewhere, but in any event, lost to himself.

Trying to sort his most pressing problems at the moment: who was going to be left behind—none of the men would volunteer—he would have to order them to stay. How many provisions could he spare, could they rely on the native Indians for any additional food or help they might need?

Considering the problem of the natives, Colon thought, They do not appear warlike. In fact he had befriended the local Chief Guacanagari. Although poor and simple, they would help, he believed.

Calculating that forty men would have to be left behind, Colon concluded that lots would be drawn to choose those who would remain behind.

Settling these issues in his mind, he called for his cabin boy to summon Vicente Pinzon to his quarters. Fighting the anger welling up within himself, Colon sought ways to properly inform Pinzon, and the rest of the crew, of his decisions.

As he waited for Pinzon, he closed his eyes and softly began to chant, “Ki Yashar Adonaifor the Lord is just, ” words from Psalm 92. Gently swaying as he chanted, the words began to soothe and calm him. A sharp knock at his door interrupted his thoughts, as he called out, “Enter.”

Vicente Pinzon, at the door, bowed and slowly approached Colon. “Esta pronto, mi capitán—I am ready for your orders, Admiral.”

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“Come in, Pinzon, now you will see what your brother’s disobedience has brought us to. Here are my orders,” as he explained in detail what had to be done. “Must be done within the next two days.”

* * *

Sitting on the beach watching the crew of the tiny Nina readying her to set sail, Diego de San Gil considered his fate.

Starving to death, being killed by the natives, or just dying of a broken heart.

Diego felt a great sadness overwhelm him, as he wrote his last entry into his journal. His last entry, since he was sending it to Elena with Juan Sanchez. Along with those men lucky enough to have chosen the right lot, Juan was returning to Spain on the Nina with Colon. One of the unfortunate forty chosen to remain in La Navidad, Diego, did not believe Colon’s assurances that they would survive the six months required for his return trip.

The food being left them was not nearly enough, and the help of the natives was questionable. Recently there had been a number of incidents involving crew members and native women. Although smoothed over, the Indians appeared sullen, not a good sign. Those remaining behind would have to survive any way they could until Colon returned, if he ever did.

The admiral had not found the large quantities of gold he was seeking. He was not even sure these were the lands of Cilpango or Japan. Would the monarchs want to fund future expeditions, or even allow Colon to return?

And then there was the strangeness of Colon himself, was he mad, or a true genius?

Ay de mi,” Diego whispered to himself. “My life is turning to dust. I believe HE is still punishing me for the choices I have made. Leaving the only woman I have ever loved…my family…”

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Thoughts of Elena rushed through his mind, her beauty, his love for her, how much he missed her. Sadly, he began his final letter to her.

Cara mia Elena,

My journal is being brought to you by my very good friend Juan Sanchez, he will explain the events, and reasons why I am not bringing it to you myself. My love for you has not lessened and never will, the memory of your kisses and warmth fill me with great joy. I love you, and will forever.

Remember, Cara mia, your tender hands always gently held my heart. You gave meaning to my life, without you, my life has no purpose.

My fate is in the hands of God. If it is his will for me to see you again, my heart will be filled with a joy unending. But if this is not to be, then you must not live your life in sorrow, your life must go on!

You are forever in my heart, all my love, Diego

Looking up as he completed the letter, Diego saw Juan Sanchez walking towards him and sadly realized, he, Diego, was not returning to Spain. The Nina was sailing in a few hours—without him!

Hola, mi amigo,” Juan called to Diego. Embracing each other as they met, Juan softly said, “So, my friend, this is goodbye.”

“Only for a while, I pray to God,” Diego replied.

“I also pray for your safe return, Diego. So I am to deliver the journal to Elena Maria de San Miguel, of Seville?”

“Yes, and this letter.”

“And your family, your father, brother, is there any message I can bring them?”

“No, none. By this time they have left España. Where they are, I do not know, aboard some ship I presume.”

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Wrapping the journal and letter to make them as watertight as possible, Diego handed them to Juan. “Tell her I have never stopped loving her.”

Shaking hands, Juan whispered, “You have my word as a gentleman, I will do all that you ask. Do not despair, mi amigo, God will look after you.”

Watching Juan walk towards the long-boat that would take him back to the Nina, Diego felt the full weight of the fate awaiting him.

* * *

Departing on January 2, 1493, Colon on the deck of the Nina, observed the men he was leaving behind. They uttered not a sound.

Silent as ghosts they watched from the beach, as the ship slowly left La Navidad, and the island of Hispaniola behind.

May the wrath of God be borne upon the head of Martine Alonso Pinzon, Colon angrily thought.

“Follow an eastward course along the coast,” he said aloud to Sancho Ruiz, the pilot.

Si, mi Capitán,” was the respectful answer.

As the ship slowly disappeared from sight, Diego de San Gil felt again that awful sense of despair. But this time his desolation was complete, they were truly gone. He would never see his family, nor hold Elena in his arms again.

In charge of those left behind was Pedro de Arana, master-at-arms, a surly man with a very bad temper, who began issuing orders the minute the Nina was out of sight.

Grumbling, the majority of the abandoned crewmen, began to complain. De Arana, in order to forestall any kind of mutiny, promised that if the men obeyed his orders, he would allow them free access to the native women.

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Diego, instinctively knowing that the goodwill of the natives was the key to their survival, began to speak out, that molesting the women would only provoke the natives.

Angered that the Converso had so openly challenged him, De Arana drew his knife, and rushed at Diego. Fatally stabbing him before anyone else could react.

Lying in the sand, his blood freely flowing, Diego, before closing his eyes for the last time, thought, Elena, Elena!

“Let this be an example to all of you. My orders are to be obeyed or you will end up like the Jew. Now bury him, and begin choosing where you will bed down.”

* * *

Continuing on uneventful easterly course along the coast of Hispaniola for four days. Colon and the crew of the Nina dreaded what was to come. Crowded on the small ship, with food rationed, the voyage home would be a nightmare.

Chanting another Hebrew psalm to calm himself as he paced the deck, Colon was startled back to reality by the shout of the lookout.

“Ship dead ahead, four masts.” Hearing the brief description, Colon’s heart leaped in his chest. A ship in this locale with four masts, Dios mío— my God. Could it be the Pinta? was the first thought that leaped into his mind.

“Close on her as quickly as you can, and begin signaling our ship’s name,” Colon ordered. His mind racing. If the ship is the Pinta, then, Pinzon, I will forgive all that you have done.

Almost reading his mind, the lookout called out, “She is signaling she is the— Pinta.”

A mighty cheer arose from both ships, the journey home would be a little easier.

* * *

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The Taino Chieftain, Guacanagari, looked sadly about the smoking ruins of what once was the fort of La Navidad. None of the Spaniards survived, all had been brutally murdered.

A just punishment for the raping of Taino women, thought Guacanagari. May we have seen the last of these white devils, he prayed.

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